Thanksgiving: Disaster Averted

Concerning the Turkey. All was going well until about one in the afternoon. The Farmer and his Wife, his in-laws and the like, as well as a child or two were all there, all enjoying the unusually warm day out of doors. Those who were old enough and wished it had a brew of sorts in hand as they watched the story of the Turkey unfold. It began with the Farmer’s Wife, who placed the bird too close to the firebox, resulting in the sugars from the rub charring a bit. “No matter,” she claimed, moving it further away. “This will still be the most delicious Turkey known to man or beast!”

And it did appear that would be the case. Until one. The Farmer’s Wife happens to be the checking type. She checks this and checks that and thankfully she chose to check the temperature of the turkey (now having been smoking a good five hours, with only a couple left until it’s set to be declared dinner). Now, a done bird is in the range of one hundred and sixty-five degrees. The Farmer’s Wife wasn’t looking for that particular number, the turkey still had a couple hours of cooking left. However, she did expect it to be a bit higher than one-twenty.

And to make matters worse, she also checked the turkey set-a-roasting inside. That one was one-sixty-five. On the nose. Which meant it was done. Early.

Yes, I can safely say there was a moment of panic on the Farm. But, you know the Farmer’s Wife–she will not let anything get between her and a good meal, so she set to fixing things. And here is what she did:

The roasted turkey was pulled, covered in foil and a towel. The smoked turkey was also pulled and a brine was made of a cup of water, a half cup apple cider vinegar, a half cup brown sugar, a half cup butter, two dried cayenne peppers, and a good tablespoon of salt. All this was set in a pan to boil as the turkey was placed in a roasting pan and covered with the brine and foil and set in a three hundred and fifty-degree oven to finish cooking. All the sides joined it, and the potatoes were quickly peeled and set to boil.

At three twenty, the potatoes were drained and mashed (the potato water saved for the gravy) and the smoked turkey checked. One hundred sixty-five. It was pulled and covered with tin foil and in its place in the oven was set the pan of rolls. The rest of the sides were bubbling nicely by that point. The Farmer’s Wife set about making the gravy with the drippings from the roasted turkey (the pan the turkey was roasted in was set on the stove, after the turkey was removed, of course, and some potato water added. Once that came to a good simmer, a stream of flour-mixed-with-potato-water is whisked in and kept whisking until a thick gravy appears).

The sides were taken from the oven and the turkey(s) carved. The gravy found its way into a boat called by its name and the rolls were set along side. All sat down to table and said a word of Thanks for the dinner that had been saved and for the Family that was gathered to eat it. And, for those of you wondering, that smoked turkey—it turned out just as delicious as all had hoped–and some say even better for the brining!